


Seeking the Familiar

by iwasnthere622



Series: Random Prompts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fights, Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned John Winchester - Freeform, Mentions of blood but nothing graphic, Pre-Canon, Stanford Era, mentioned dean winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4187964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasnthere622/pseuds/iwasnthere622
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had known that seeking out that seedy bar had been a bad idea, but maybe something good will come from it because a pretty girl in his class is suddenly next to him smiling at him in such a familiar way that his heart aches even as he grins back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeking the Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #222: We both got in separate bar fights downtown and now we’re waiting in the ER comparing stories.  
> Pairing #4: Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore
> 
> This is set in the Stanford Era, pre-canon.

Sam slumped further down into his seat, the hard plastic digging into his back between his shoulder blades, long legs stretched carelessly in front of him. He rubbed at his eyes, looking around the room in a habit he couldn't break --  _don't let your guard down, scan the surroundings, stay vigilant_ \-- before returning his gaze to his phone.

_ You have 0 unread messages _ , the screen told him. He didn't know why he was expecting anything different tonight... It'd been two months without a peep from either of his  _family_ , why would tonight be any different?

His hand unconsciously clenched a bit tighter around the phone, causing a wince to briefly mar his features as the pain in his palm flared before settling to a constant low hum. God, how could he have been so stupid...?

He just... he was so lonely and so  _different_ from everyone here and he'd just wanted something  _familiar_...

It'd been a dumb idea to go to that bar, he'd known it even as he'd searched for a place before leaving his dorm. Somewhere far enough away from campus that he wouldn't run into any classmates or professors, someplace that didn't cater to kids but to adults, a whole in the wall with dirty tables and a rickety pool table or two...

Someplace he could easily picture himself, an atmosphere he'd grown up in. Dad at the bar, writing in his journal and nursing his third whiskey, fingers smudged with newspaper ink and gunpowder, while Dean flirted with the waitress and scammed a game of pool with Sam if she didn't bite.

Stanford was so bright and clean and cheery and he was just sick of it, sick of smiling and pretending everything was fine when it wasn't, when his heart was still bleeding hurt from Dad yelling at him to  _go then, you want out so badly, but don't you come crawling back_ and Dean just standing there, shocked speechless, just letting Sam walk out the door, to the bus stop, get on the bus and just leave and he didn't chase after him, didn't go  _with him_ , no calls or texts, just dropped him like Dad had and...

Sam rubbed a hand over his face, looking around again, but no one was paying any attention to him. Apparently, there'd been a pretty bad pile up on the highway and the staff were busy taking care of people who really needed them. No one worried over the few scrapes and cuts a poor college kid had gotten in a sleazy bar fight downtown. Hell, Sam wouldn't have even bothered with the trip if he wasn't just tipsy enough to probably cause himself more harm than good if he tried to remove all the glass himself, and if the cops hadn't insisted on giving him a ride here.

He'd just gone back to staring at his cell, internal debate that never seemed to end tugging in his mind, making him open and close Dean's number, thumb hesitant to type a message or press the call key, biting his lip. He gave a cursory glance up when the ER doors smoothly slid open, accessing the two kids that entered quickly and deeming them a non-threat, eyes drifting back down.

That is, until the pair sat two seats away from him after signing in and being deemed to have non-life threatening injuries, causing him to straighten a bit in his chair.

"Brady, I told you, I'm fine," the girl said, holding what looked like an ice pack to her face.

"You need to get it checked out," the guy frowned, his tone suggesting this wasn't the first time he was saying his. "That guy really socked you -- what if he dislocated your jaw or something?"

"I'm pretty sure I'd notice a dislocated jaw," the girl answered with an amused tone, her face trying to smile and ending up in a wince instead.

"See!" the guy -- Brady -- exclaimed.

"I'm fine," she repeated, waving a hand and noticing Sam, squinting her eyes a bit. "Hey, do you go to Stanford?"

Sam cleared his throat, cheeks coloring at getting caught eavesdropping, eyes dropping to his cell before closing Dean's contact information and looking back up. "Yeah, uh, yeah."

"Hey, yeah, we have Euro I together, right?" Brady suddenly said, staring too. "Stan?"

"Sam, it's Sam, actually," Sam responded, just now recognizing the guy. He spoke up a lot during the lectures, whereas Sam just sat quietly taking notes or reading ahead.

"Sam, right! You live in Stern, too?" Brady asked.

Sam nodded, not surprised to hear that they both lived in Stern Hall, too.

"What happened that you're here, Sam?" the girl asked him curiously.

"Ah, well... I was in a bar fight," Sam answered a bit sheepishly.

"No way! So was Jess!" Brady exclaimed, even as the girl rolled her eyes.

"Barely," she waved a hand. 

"Trade stories?" Sam asked, something in her eyes reminding him of Dean, the pang of heartbreak of being away from his brother somehow less when he was looking at her.

"Sure. I'm Jess. Jessica Moore," she answered, offering her hand.

Sam grinned, offering his left hand, as it wasn't as scraped and had stopped bleeding on its own. "Sam Winchester."

They awkwardly shook hands and all three of them laughed when Brady put his hand on top of their yet-clasped hands announcing that his first name was dumb and he was just Brady, all one name, like Madonna and Cher. Still chuckling, Sam waved a hand for Jess to go first and listened to how she and Brady had been at the local hotspot for Stanford students when a scuffle broke out at the bar over someone flirting with someone else's girlfriend and a flailing fist had missed its target and hit her instead.

"You okay?" Sam asked, concerned eyes reassessing but she just seemed to have a nice bruise.

"I'm fine, but you clearly aren't," Jess answered, concern mirrored back at Sam as she eyes his blood-soaked bandage at his hand.

"Ah, yeah. Some drunks were cauing trouble, I tried to step in and help cool them off... A few bottles were thrown around and I've got some cuts, but I'm fine. The cops sorted it out and dropped me here. I won't even need stitches, just a steady head to pull the glass out."

"Wow, get into fights often or something?" Brady asked, chuckling. "You sure know a lot about what you need for those cuts."

Sam flushed, muttering something about reading an article somewhere and glancing back down at his phone, missing the way Jess's eyes softened.

"Sam," she said, waiting until he looked back up at her. "Ice cream after this?" she asked, tilting her head in invitation.

"Dude, yeah, c'mon!" Brady grinned, clapping him on the shoulder.

Something in Sam's chest tightened and he had to clear his throat to answer. "Y-yeah, that'd be... yeah. Thanks."

Jess grinned and Sam grinned back, not even minding when he was suddenly called to get taken care of, knowing Jess and Brady would be waiting for him now, feeling not as alone.

And when he worked up the courage to ask Jess out a week later and she said yes, and when Brady talked about the rooming together next semester, something in him started healing instead of continuing to bleed and he could pocket his phone without feeling torn. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to view the full list of prompts and pairings I'm working off of, please see the first work in this series.
> 
> Supernatural Tumblr: maryslittleangel  
> Personal Tumblr: iwasnthere622


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